Duet Or Die (2014)
by Melissa E.M
Summary: IT'S BACK! The original Duet Or Die is being re-written for the year 2014. The story: Nearburg is getting ready for a big charity concert, and no one is more excited than CatDog, whose two favorite singers will be there. However, the two-week wait until showtime proves to be a whirlwind of drama, deceit, backstabbing, general craziness, and a whirlwind romance or two. Cat/OC Dog/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Duet Or Die (2014)**

A CatDog Fanfiction

By Melissa E.M.

* * *

**Chapter One:**

"In Which the Reader Will Likely Cringe"

* * *

Mayor Rancid Rabbit was taking a light nap in his office, leaning back in his comfortable leather chair with his legs propped up on his wooden desk. It was a quiet day in Nearburg, which was unusual, and he was fully taking advantage of this. He smiled in his sleep. Not a single phone call. No papers to sign. Yes, today was a good day.

Suddenly, his intercom buzzed to life, startling him and nearly causing him to fall out of his chair. "Mr. Mayor," said his secretary, "your niece is here to see you!"

Normally, Rancid would have jumped down his secretary's throat for disturbing him when he explicitly told her not to. However, if there was one person Rancid put everything aside for besides himself, it was his niece. He dared not say no to her for any reason whatsoever. Not only because he cared about her, but because she threw the absolute worst temper tantrums if she didn't get her way.

Holding back a sigh, Rancid sat up in his chair, pressed a button on the intercom, and replied to his secretary. "Send her in, Buffy."

Not more than three seconds later, the doors to Rancid's office slammed open, and Rancine Rabbit came stomping inside. "Uncle Rancid! We need to talk! Now!"

Rancid took a deep breath and smiled. "Rancine! Is school out already? I must have lost track of time!" He gestured towards the nearest vacant chair. "Pull up a seat, sweetheart."

Rancine stopped before the desk and crossed her arms. "I'll _stand_, thank you very much."

"Very well," said Rancid. He folded his hands and placed them on his desk. "So, what can I do for you?"

Rancine glared at her uncle. "Do you have any idea what day it is in three weeks?"

Rancid's smile grew wider. "Of course I do! Your birthday's coming up in three weeks, isn't it?"

"That's right," snapped Rancine, "my birthday! But do you remember how old I'm going to be?"

Rancid's smile disappeared. Uh-oh. He'd forgotten how old she was! He thought quickly. Let's see... she was almost done with her first year of junior high school... wow, time flies quickly! It only seemed like just yesterday she was only seven years old, with that cute blue and white dress and those beautiful blonde curls in her hair. Now she was... god, how old, how old?

Rancine narrowed her eyes. Apparently, Rancid had taken too long to respond. "I'm going to be THIRTEEN!" she shrieked.

"Oh!" said Rancid, startled by her outburst. "Of course, of course! Thirteen!" He smiled again. "How could I forget such a huge milestone?"

"You're darn right it's huge milestone!" yelled Rancine. "And I want it to be the best, most memorable birthday I've ever had, got it?!"

"Of course, Rancine!" said Rancid with a nod. "So, what did you have in mind?"

Rancine began tapping her foot. "My BFF, Squeak, just celebrated her thirteenth birthday. Her mom got her concert tickets to see Aaron Beaverton. They flew all the way out to Canada to see him perform a charity concert."

"Aaron Beaverton? That really popular boy singer you have a poster of in your room?" asked Rancid.

Rancine shot him a dirty look. "He's not a _boy_, Uncle! He's a _man_! But yeah, I'm talking about him. I want you to bring him here to perform a concert for my birthday! In fact... I want you to do better than that!" she said, suddenly struck with an idea. "I want you to get ALL my favorite singers together to perform for me!"

Rancid's eyes bulged. "Uh, I'd love to do that for you, Rancine, but–"

"Excuse me?" Rancine interrupted him. "Did you just say, 'but'? Are you going to tell me 'no'?!"

"N-no, I'm not going to tell you 'no'!" Rancid said quickly. "It's just that it costs a lot of money to organize a concert, and to hire performers. Especially famous ones like Aaron Beaverton."

"So what?! You're rich!"

"Yes, but not _that_ rich!"

"Then figure out how to scrounge up the money! NOW!"

Rancid sighed, turned his gaze to the rings of wood on his desk, and immediately put his brain to work. Hmm... what could he do? If only there was a way to get so many people at a discounted price... wait! Didn't Rancine say Aaron Beaverton had been performing a charity concert? That's it, a charity concert! But a charity for what? Rancid glanced up at his niece... and then inspiration struck.

Rancid smiled slyly. "Rancine, how well can you fake being sick?"

Rancine immediately caught on and mirrored her uncle's expression. "Heh... I like the way you think, Uncle. And to answer your question..."

Rancine suddenly began shaking all over. She wrapped her arms around herself and groaned. "Oh, it's so cold... so very cold..." She gave a whooping cough, then wheezed for air. "Oh, it hurts to breathe! The agony!" She fell to the floor and writhed about. "My head! My chest! My stomach! Oh god, make it stop!" she sobbed. She curled up into a fetal position. "Someone call 911! I'm dying!" She then gasped loudly, then fell limp and stopped moving.

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Mayor," spoke the secretary, "is everything okay in there?!"

Rancid pressed the button. "Yes, yes, everything is fine, Buffy," he replied, beaming with pride at his niece. "Just pretend you heard nothing and go back to what you were doing." He took his finger off the button and slowly clapped his hands. "Bravo, Rancine. You even managed to scare Buffy! Looks like the concert is on."

Rancine sat up and pumped her fist into the air. "Alright!"

Rancid took out a notepad and pen and started to write. "So, aside from Aaron Beaverton, who else do you want at this concert?"

Rancine got up from the floor and went to look over her uncle's shoulder. "Myra Smiley, Candy Bacon, Ko Kik, LMBO, O'Henry, Tabby Duke, Tunya Felina, and Biscuit Canino."

Rancid finished writing with a flourish. "There! Now all we have to do," he said, getting up from his chair and heading towards the nearest bookshelf, "is to figure out what you'll be sick from. Good thing I'm also a doctor." He pulled out an official-looking medical book from the shelf and started flipping through it. "Hmm, let's see... what illness requires a lot of money to cure? Cacapupu systemosis... cranial excrementia..." He skipped a few sections forward and immediately found something. "Aha! Florifer syndrome! Perfect!"

Rancine raised an eyebrow. "Florifer syndrome? What's that?"

"It's a rare disease that causes flowers to grow from various parts of the body," explained Rancid. "In fact, it's so rare, there's only been one reported case of it! The only known cure is to consume the leaves of a rare plant called Lyceum nycanthropus, which only grows in the state of Calisota. And because Lyceum nycanthropus is a protected species, it will cost a _lot_ of money to convince conservationists to give up one of them."

Rancine cocked her head to one side. "But if they saw I was sick, wouldn't they just hand over the plant?"

Rancid's expression darkened. "Clearly, my dear niece, you don't know how far certain parties are willing to go to protect that particular species of plant. There have been homicides over it. It's not pretty."

Rancine rubbed her chin. "Homicides? Huh, that's dark."

"Maybe so," said Rancid, "but pay enough money and bloodshed can be easily avoided. A charity concert of this proportion can easily rake in millions."

"Do we actually have to buy the plant, though? I'd sooner we swindled everyone and kept all the money for ourselves! That way you can buy me extra birthday presents," said Rancine, rubbing her hands together greedily.

"I like the way you think," said Rancid with a grin. "But we have to be as convincing about this as possible. Here's what we're gonna do: we hold the concert, we use the money to buy the plant, then we sell the plant on the black market to the highest bidder, and _then_ we get you extra birthday presents. And maybe I can get a little something for myself, too, like a third convertible. How's that sound?"

Rancine nodded. "Okay. I guess that's fair. Though if you're going to get yourself a third convertible, I want FOUR new cars for my _sixteenth_ birthday, got it?"

Rancid made an "OK" sign. "Got it!"

Rancine smiled and put out a hand to shake. "Let's do this!"

Rancid firmly shook Rancine's hand. "We make a fine team, Rancine, my dear. I promise, you're going to have the best birthday ever."

"I'd better!" Rancine suddenly snapped. "Because if I don't–!"

"You will!" Rancid assured her. "Don't worry, you will. I promise, you definitely won't be forgetting this birthday."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

"In Which CatDog Are Fanboys"

* * *

In the home of CatDog, our favorite bi-cranial quadruped was lounging on the couch, reading the headline of their local newspaper, The Nearburg Daily. In bold letters, it read:

**LEGENDARY CONCERT EVENT!**

Then, beneath it, in smaller letters:

**Mayor Rancid To Hold Charity Concert for Ailing Niece - Tickets Now On Sale!**

"I still can't believe who's going to be playing at this concert!" said Cat excitedly. "Tunya Felina, the most gorgeous feline pop sensation ever!" He put the newspaper down, then reached beside his side of the couch and picked up a magazine from a neatly-stacked pile. He gazed at the glossy cover with admiring eyes. Posing on it was Tunya Felina, a beautiful, shapely cat woman with long blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Cat stroked the magazine cover with a finger. "Oh, it's a dream come true! That beautiful woman, mere feet away from me... I can see it now, Dog..."

Cat imagined himself at the upcoming concert, sitting in the front row of the Nearburg Bowl stadium. Tunya Felina was on the stage, giving him a flirtatious gaze. Cat reached up and handed Tunya a single red rose. The singer gasped in delighted surprise, then kissed Cat on the cheek in thanks.

Cat ended his fantasy with a long, dreamy sigh. "Bee-yoo-tee-full!"

"Yeah, Tunya Felina is cool and all," said Dog, "but Biscuit Canino... awoooooh!" He held up a magazine of his own, which had considerable wear and tear on it despite it being a recent issue.

Biscuit Canino was a dog woman with auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a backwards blue baseball cap, a white t-shirt, and blue jeans. Oddly, like Tunya, she had large blue eyes, and had the same fur color.

Dog cradled his magazine like a baby. "It has been a dream of mine to see Biscuit in person since I heard her first hit single." He cleared his throat and started singing as loudly as possible. "OH, MY DOGGONE BAY-BEE–!"

Cat, not wishing to hear his brother's lovely voice at the moment, clamped his hand over Dog's mouth. "Um, yes, that's a... um... great song, Dog, yeah, really _fab_ulous. But..." He moved his hand. "Kindly keep it to a low roar, please?"

Dog blushed. "Sorry, Cat. Got a little enthusiastic there."

Cat crossed his arms. "I've noticed."

Dog grinned. "We really should get tickets to see that concert, Cat. We'll get to see the both of them! And the money will be going towards a good cause!"

"I wouldn't consider Rancine Rabbit to be a 'good cause', Dog, no matter how sick she is... but yes, we absolutely _need_ to go! Trouble is, we just used our savings to pay this month's bills. I hate to say it, but we're broke."

"Why, how much are the tickets?"

"One-hundred dollars each."

"What?! But the concert is in two weeks!" Dog whined and pulled on his ears in frustration. "How are we going to raise two-hundred dollars in less than two weeks?"

"Fear not, Dog. I'm sure _I'll_ think of something," said Cat smugly. "I always do, don't I?"

Dog slowly nodded and smiled. "Yeah, you do!"

"You know what bothers me, though?" said Cat. "Tunya Felina and Biscuit Canino playing at the same concert... those two are arch-rivals. I wouldn't be surprised if they ended up killing each other!"

"Oh, you're exag – eggsag – er – that's silly, Cat!" said Dog, waving a hand carelessly. "Tunya and Biscuit work at the same record company! I'm sure that they're really good friends."

Cat raised an eyebrow. "Dog, clearly you don't pay close enough attention to celebrity news. Tunya and Biscuit hate each other's guts! Their catfights are legendary, and they've had more of them than you can count on both hands!"

Dog held his hands in front of his face and peered at them carefully.

Cat slapped his forehead. "I can't believe you're actually counting! Ugh, look, Dog, it doesn't matter. I wouldn't want to see Tunya performing alongside Biscuit Canino, anyway."

This caught Dog's attention. "Huh? Why not, Cat?"

"Well, it's just that Tunya's talent is obviously superior to Biscuit's. One would think that would be obvious."

Dog growled at his brother. "Tunya Felina is NOT better than Biscuit Canino! You take that back!"

"No, I won't take it back!" said Cat. "I'm entitled to my opinion."

Dog suddenly growled again and snatched Cat's magazine from him.

Cat gasped in shock. "Hey! What are you doing?!"

Dog reached into the cushions of the couch and pulled out a big black marker.

Cat's eyes widened. "No. NO. Don't you _dare_!"

Dog hid the magazine from view and hastily scribbled on it. Then he shoved the magazine back to Cat.

Tunya's beautiful face now sported a sloppy mustache and a black pair of glasses.

Cat glared daggers at his brother, and his voice became dangerously low. "Oh, so you want to play games, huh? I'll show you!" He snatched Dog's magazine and the marker away from him, despite Dog's loud protests. Cat scribbled on the cover, then held it up for Dog to see. "HAH!"

Biscuit's face now had thick eyebrows and a beard.

Dog began growling once more, looking as though he might explode from anger. "That's it! Now you have crossed the line!" He lunged at Cat, but missed, and landed on the floor. Cat, now just as furious, pounced on top of Dog, and the two of them rolled about the floor, fighting like... well, cats and dogs. They were so busy tearing each other apart that they failed to notice Winslow come out through his door and watch them in amusement.

"Heya, CatDog!" he shouted above the ruckus. "What're youse fightin' about this time?!"

"Winslow, Cat thinks Tunya Felina is better than Biscuit Canino!" Dog yelled, pinning Cat to the floor.

"Well, she is!" Cat yelled. "So there!"

Winslow shook his head. "Meh, youse two are no better than a couple of babies. I happen to be in the music biz, remember? I can tell ya for sure who the best singer is!"

Cat and Dog paused and stared at Winslow. Dog let go of Cat and helped him up from the floor. "Really?" asked Cat.

"Yeah. It's neither of 'em!"

"Huh?!" cried CatDog.

"But, Winslow, we thought–" Dog started to say.

Winslow laughed. "The best singer can beat your two divas any day!" He reached behind him and pulled out a magazine of his own, which dwarfed him in size. Posing on the front cover was a slender, gray cat woman with platinum blonde hair, green eyes, and a heart-shaped tattoo on her right cheek. She was wearing a cat collar with a bell on it, as well as the skimpiest clothes CatDog had ever seen.

"Well, _hey now_," said Cat, clearly impressed. "Who is _this_?"

"That's Tabby Duke," said Winslow. "She's new to the music scene, but she's already super-popular."

"I can certainly see why," said Cat, eying the magazine closely. Suddenly, Winslow hit him with it, and he recoiled in pain.

"Hey, no droolin' on my magazine, furball!" Winslow snapped. He then smirked. "By the way... it might interest ya to know that soon, Tunya Felina's gonna be yesterday's news."

Cat gave him a confused look. "What? Why?"

Winslow chuckled. "Because Tabby Duke launched her career by tellin' the public that Tunya ripped off her style. And they all fell for it, hook, line and sinker! Heh-heh!"

Cat's jaw dropped. "WH-WHAT?! Winslow, you've gotta be kidding!" He grabbed the blue rodent by the shoulders and shook him violently, making him drop the magazine. "Please tell me you're kidding!"

"Hey, knock it off!" yelled Winslow. "And no, I ain't kiddin'!"

Cat dropped Winslow – who hit the floor with a thud and an "OOF!" – and stared sadly into space. "I... I don't believe it... Tunya Felina? Yesterday's news?" He looked down at Winslow's magazine and picked it up. "How could someone so attractive be so despicable as to damage someone else's career in order to further their own?"

Winslow snatched the magazine back. "Hands off! And to answer your question, not all beautiful people are on the up-and-up, furball. That's somethin' ya need to get through your thick skull. But hey, I'll say this much for Tabby – she's a smart cookie. She knows that ya don't get famous or stay that way by playin' straight."

"But that's not fair!" cried Cat.

"Yeah, well, life ain't fair. Get used to it."

Dog patted Cat's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Cat. Maybe playing this concert will get people to love Tunya again."

"Hate to break it to you fellas," said Winslow, "but Tabby's playin' at that same concert."

Cat let out a defeated groan and collapsed to the floor. "My favorite diva... upstaged by some... some... random heartless _tart_!"

"That heartless tart, as youse call her, is rakin' in billions."

Dog tried to make Cat feel better. "Um... maybe she's auto-tuned and not actually all that talented?"

"Nope," said Winslow. "Her voice is all-natural. Pure talent. Listen!" He pulled out a rat-sized stereo out of nowhere and pressed the "PLAY" button. A song by Tabby Duke began to play.

"_I wanna pop 'em like I do with bubble wrap_

_Dotting your disgusting face, you really look like crap (I hate it)_

_Your face could turn people into stone like Medusa_

_And I never would date you because you're a gross loser_

"_Ew, ew, ew, ew, ewwww, ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew_

_Please wash your face, you are a disgrace_

_Ew, ew, ew, ew, ewwww, ew-ew-ew-ew-ew-ew_

_Please wash your face, you are a disgrace_

"_Oh my god, you're a slob_

_I just can't stand your pizza face_

_(You'll never get a girlfriend)_

_Oh my god, you're a slob_

_I just can't stand your pizza face_

_(You'll never get a girlfriend)_

"_P-p-p-pizza face, p-p-pizza face_

_P-p-p-pizza face, p-p-pizza face..._"

"I don't like these lyrics at all," Dog said, "but I've got to admit, she really is talented... sorry, Cat."

Cat groaned again. "Turn it off, Winslow. I've heard enough."

Winslow turned off the stereo. "What'd I tell ya? Tunya Felina is history. This concert will be the nail in the coffin!"

"And just what makes you so sure, Winslow?" asked a female voice.

CatDog and Winslow looked up to see Lola Caricola fly from the open window to the floor before them.

Dog waved at her. "_Hola_, Lola!"

"_Hola_, Dog," said Lola politely. "_Hola_, Cat."

Cat sighed and gave her a weak wave. "Hi..."

"Hey, no '_hola_' for me?" asked Winslow.

Lola glared at him. "Winslow, answer my question. How are you so sure that Tabby Duke will outperform Tunya Felina?"

Winslow pretended to pick lint off of his overalls. "Call it intuition, toots. When you've been in the business as long as I have, you just know."

Lola narrowed her eyes. "Uh-huh..."

Winslow raised an eyebrow at her. "What, you don't believe me?"

"That would be an understatement," said Lola flatly. "Let's just say my surveillance equipment's been picking up more information than usual."

Winslow suddenly looked nervous for a few seconds, then got angry and yelled, "Oh yeah?! Who gave ya permission to spy on me, ya yellow-bellied sapsucker?!"

"That's yellow-belled _whippoorwill_," Lola corrected him. "And it isn't my fault you've been getting sloppy about keeping your secrets, _rata_."

"What're ya tryin' to prove?!"

"So far, I can't prove anything," Lola admitted. "But if you don't stop rubbing salt into Cat's wounds, I'll be more than happy to spread a rumor or two based on what I've found."

"_That's blackmail_!" shouted Winslow.

"You don't believe in playing straight, Winslow? Well, sometimes, neither do I," said Lola with a smirk.

Winslow opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to speak, but no sound came out. Finally, he threw his hands in the air in frustration. "UGH! I don't have to put up with this! I'm outta here!" The rat stomped his way out of the room and through his door, slamming it shut behind him.

Dog stared at Lola in shock. "Lola, that wasn't very nice!"

"What he was doing to your brother wasn't very nice, either, Dog," said Lola. She stepped in front of Cat's face. "You okay, _Gato_?"

Cat gave her a weak smile. "Yeah... thanks for sticking up for me, Lola." He turned to Dog and glared at him. "Apparently, _someone_ never gets it when Winslow is trying to be an antagonistic little twerp!"

Dog frowned. "I'm sorry, Cat."

Cat made a 'harrumph' sound and then turned back to Lola. "So, Lola... did you just happen to be listening to our conversation with your equipment?"

Lola shook her head. "No. I was actually waiting by the window because I wanted to give you and Dog these!" She reached into her dress and pulled out a pair of tickets.

Cat's eyes widened. "Are those... are those what I think they are?!"

Lola grinned. "_S__í_! Tickets to the charity concert! Take them!"

Cat and Dog took one ticket each and gazed at them in wonder like they were made of gold and encrusted with diamonds.

"Wowie kaboodles! _Muchos gracias_, Lola!" cried Dog. "This is the greatest thing you've ever done for us!"

"Anything for my _amigos_!" said Lola proudly.

"Lola, how did you get these tickets so fast?" asked Cat. "The concert was only just announced!"

"I followed some tweets!" Lola explained.

Cat cocked his head to one side. "Tweets?"

"The other birds around Nearburg are very chatty, so word tends to spread quickly in the avian community," said Lola. "They started tweeting about the concert yesterday, so I managed to be first in line to buy tickets this morning!"

"Well, that's certainly convenient," said Cat. "Bet you had some special connections, too, huh?" he asked with a grin.

Lola rubbed the back of her neck and smiled. "Well... _s__í_. Being one of the greatest scientific minds in Nearburg definitely helps."

"Well, if there's anything we can do to repay you," said Cat sincerely, "just name it!"

"Mm-hmm!" agreed Dog with a nod.

"No, it's okay, _muchachos_. I'm just glad you two are happy! You get to see your favorite singers, I get to see mine, and we'll all be sitting in the front row together. Everyone wins, right?"

"Speaking of which, who _is_ your favorite singer?" asked Cat.

"Candy Bacon," said Lola. "She's unbelievable! Her voice is so deep and beautiful, and her music videos are very artistic." She paused. "Hey, Cat – I just realized something. You're usually into classical polka and opera, aren't you? What would get you to start listening to Tunya Felina, anyway? Is she just _that_ pretty?" she asked with a giggle.

Cat blushed. "Well, it certainly helps that she's pretty... but that's not the only reason I became her fan. See, Tunya's mother is Salmone Felina, a famous opera star. I found out about Tunya through her. I was a bit skeptical about giving pop music a try, but... Tunya broke the mold for me. She's amazingly talented! She writes much of her own music and lyrics, she never needs auto-tune, and she puts her heart and soul into every song." He sighed dreamily. "She takes my breath away..."

Lola giggled. "Aw, sounds like you're in love, Cat!"

"Well... maybe," Cat admitted with a chuckle. "It's too bad I can't meet her personally. I bet we'd hit it off pretty well."

"I'd love to meet Biscuit!" said Dog. "Her songs are usually sad, but in a good way. It's cath... cath... what's the word I'm looking for?" he wondered.

"Cathartic?" Cat suggested.

"Yeah, that's it!"said Dog. "And her voice gives me goosebumps!" he added, hugging himself.

Cat sighed. "Well... at least we'll get to see them in concert. It's better than nothing, right?"

"Yeah!" Dog agreed. "Besides, we can always dream, can't we?"

Lola smiled. "Who knows, CatDog? Some dreams can come true. It's too bad I know can never meet Candy, though..."

"What makes you say that?" asked Cat.

"She likes keeping to herself a lot," Lola said. "She never stops to sign autographs or anything. She's pretty mysterious, actually." She shrugged. "Ah, but it doesn't matter. Seeing her in concert will be enough for me, I think."

"How about we celebrate getting to go to this concert?" Cat suggested. "We don't have wine, but we've got plenty of orange soda!"

"Ooh, count me in!" said Dog excitedly.

"Same!" said Lola. "We can toast to our luck!"

CatDog went into the kitchen, where Cat poured three tall glasses of orange soda with ice, then came back into the living room. CatDog and Lola took their glasses and held them high.

"To our good fortune!" proclaimed Lola.

"To Tunya Felina in concert!" added Cat.

"To _all_ our favorite performers!" Dog added last.

The three clinked their glasses together and chugged down their soda. They spent the next hour after that talking non-stop about the concert. They were certain they were going to have the time of their lives, and that absolutely nothing was going to get in their way.


End file.
